Love Knots
by Little Leaf of the Redwoods
Summary: A random collection of missing scenes from 'Knots' and 'Knotted Together' in no particular order. Warnings include language, spanking, brotherly fluff and mild angst.
1. The Other Ring

**A/N: It fascinates me that, despite being years old, people are still read my first full-length story "Knots." Thank you for the over 200,000 views and many reviews since the story started. Along the way, readers have requested I go back and write some chapters I skipped because of the rush to finish. In no particular order, here are a few I wish I would have taken the time to have written. **

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**Missing Chapter #1** – takes place after 'Every Hand's a Winner (part 2)'

Sig and Edgar arrived home around dinner time, an exhausted but happy dog in their wake.

The boys and their rescued dog had spent the day hiking the in foothills and hanging out at the docks. Daisy couldn't get enough of the exhilarating daytrip. She loved nothing more than being out in the fresh air and spending time with her family. Even better, the new sights and smells, especially the ripe fishiness of the bay, were an added bonus to the young lab's adventure. Needless to say, it was a day she'd never forget.

On the other hand, Sig and Edgar spent the day trying to forget. Neither one wanted to talk about what was most on their minds; Norman and his impending licking for stealing, drinking and driving drunk. Based solely on the severity of the offensives, both brothers knew Norman was in for one hell of a 'talk' with Dad's strap and, although each and every lick would be well-earned, Sig and Edgar still felt terrible for what was transpiring at home.

By the time they did reach home, Daisy was almost asleep on her four, overworked paws. The canine pulled herself into the house, grabbed a long, refreshing drink of water from her bowl and crashed right in the middle of the living room carpet.

Edgar's eyes were only for the refrigerator door. The List was gone. It seemed like something was missing from the kitchen landscape considering the damning piece of paper had hung there for so long. Its absence, although long-wished for by all three brothers, now seemed strange.

Looking out into the living room, Sig smiled at the dog, glad at least one of them truly enjoyed the excursion. Then, he dropped their supplies on the kitchen table and noticed a hastily scribbled note lying nearby.

Picking it up, he read it out loud, "**Went to finalize repairs to the boat. Will pick up pizza five for dinner. Dad.**"

"Pizza?" Edgar questioned, turning his eyes from the refrigerator door.

Sig shrugged naturally, "Guess he doesn't feel like cooking." _Or he feels guilty about punishing Norman and Edgar and I just get to reap the rewards of that guilt_.

With Sig's attention in his direction, Edgar raised his hand and pointed to the empty spot on the refrigerator door. He kept his eyes locked on his oldest brother, waiting for some kind of comment or reaction. Perhaps, looking back, it was more comfort that he was looking for than anything else. Certainly, no one was surprised to see The List was now history.

Sig sighed, knowing exactly what Edgar was referring to. Still, he tried a little humor. "Are you asking me to pour you a glass of milk from the refrigerator?" he slyly asked.

"Nooo," was the snippy comeback accompanied with a disgusted eye roll. Empathetically, Edgar pointed to the blank space again.

"Did you think I would still be there?" Sig asked evenly, hand on his hip.

Edgar was taken off guard by the obvious question. "I…I don't know…honestly…"

"Frankly," Sig took his eyes off the door of the large appliance and began unpacking their bags, "I'm glad it's gone. In fact, I hope to never see another one again."

"But Norman…" Edgar protested, mistakenly taking Sig's gratitude as callousness towards their middle brother.

Empty drink bottles in hand, Sig stopped what he was doing. "Norman paid his dues, Edgar. He's square with the house now. As painful as I'm sure it was I am equally sure Norman's glad it's finally over."

"Is it?" Edgar questioned softly, "Cause where is he?"

Sig had spent the whole day purposely swallowing his concern for Norman that the effort carried over even now. With Edgar showing open apprehension, Sig's façade cracked a bit along with his emotionless demeanor.

Dropping the supplies on the table, Sig had the good sense to show his youngest brother just how concerned he REALLY was. "Come on," he said, rounding the table and putting a leading hand in between Edgar's shoulder blades, "You're right. Let's go check on him."

"But where is he?"

"No doubt sleeping it off in his room," Sig explained with utter confidence, "And if I know him…which, believe me, I do…he'll be longing for company when he wakes up." _I wish Dad hadn't left him alone. Dear Lord, please let this punishment have gone 'My Way' today. Maybe that sounds conceded but I don't mean for it to; I just know in my heart Dad's way isn't necessarily the 'Right Way' for Norman…or Edgar._

The brothers quietly ascended the stairs, careful not to wake the snoring dog in the living room. The last thing Norman needed was one of Daisy's enthusiastic 'morning' greetings.

When they got to the closed bedroom door, Sig led the way, not even bothering to knock. Gently, he pushed the door open and, grabbing Edgar by the arm, proceeded into Norman's room.

As he suspected, Norman was sound asleep in his bed. Lying face down, his head turned to the side facing the door, the tough guy was clad in only his boxers. It was evident from the ruddiness of Norman's cheeks that he cried himself to sleep.

The knowledge broke Sig's heart and the stoic, 'he's getting what's coming to him' façade completely shattered this time.

"Hey," Sig whispered, kneeling by the side of Norman's bed. Lightly, he reached out and stroked his younger brother's face. "Hey, little brother," he spoke kindly, caressing Norman's stubbly chin.

Edgar took a seat on the end of the bed. Unfortunately, from that vantage point, the kid could see up Norman's undershorts to his exposed upper thighs and lower buttocks. From the window, the summer sun highlighted the flaming red skin under his brother's tartan boxers. In sympathy, Edgar winced, wishing there was something he could do to ease the hurt.

Slowly, Norman opened his eyes and came almost nose to nose with his elder brother. Instantly, the sting from his bottom registered in his brain and he groaned. "Hey, yourself," he said quickly, trying to cover up the noise. Carelessly, he flicked Sig's comforting hand away from his face, "Can't a guy take a nap around here?"

"Dad's coming home soon with pizza!" Sig withdrew his affection and offered as a weak excuse for checking on his brother.

Norman swallowed, his throat parched. "Rather have a beer."

"I think that's what got you in this predicament in the first place."

Norman snorted a small laugh.

"How are you?" Edgar cut in, effectively ending the banter between his two older brothers before it started. He had no patience for it today. He simply wanted to be reassured that Norman was OK and didn't suffer a severe whipping like he'd gotten last summer over the shed incident.

"Good, kid," Norman lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder to the end of the bed. He was glad Edgar had made his presence known before he said something he would have regretted. "Never better."

"Your backside looks like a candied apple from the Harvest Festival," Edgar countered, confronting his older brother with the facts.

"Jesus!" Norman said with extreme embarrassment, ignoring the pain and grabbing the nearest item to throw over his lower half. Sadly, all he could find was a thin t-shirt. "Thanks for pointing that out, Edgar," he added sarcastically, satisfied his backside was now completely covered and his modesty was restored.

"Does it hurt?" Sig asked, the absurd question slipping past his lips before he could stop himself.

Norman settled back down on his stomach and froze his brother with an icy stare. "How do you want me to answer that question?"

"Point taken."

Practically afraid to ask, Edgar muttered quickly, "How many?"

"How many what?" Norman pretended he had no idea what Edgar was asking.

"You know what I mean!" Edgar shook the bed with the heel of his foot against the box spring. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed like only a teenager could. "Stop playing. How many licks of the strap did you get?"

"Enough to think twice about doing something so stupid ever again," Norman shot his little brother a look. "And shaking the bed DOESN'T help, kid!"

Instantly chagrined, Edgar uncrossed his arms and apologized. "Sorry. Do you want ice…or somethin'?" he innocently offered.

"I hear a bag of frozen pea works great for swelling," Sig teased lightheartedly.

"So help me God, you put a bag of frozen peas on my ass…" Norman grumbled.

"…You'll what?" Sig cocked his head to the left, challenging his brother in his weakened state, "Whatch'a gonna do, tough guy?"

Rising up on his elbows, Norman made a fist with his right hand and cracked his fingers, all while menacingly glaring at his older brother.

Sig, unimpressed by the display of testosterone, immediately noticed a sparkling silver item on Norman's right hand. "Oh…My…God!" he exclaimed with such passion and surprise that it caught Edgar's attention.

"What?" the kid asked, unsure if he should be curious or alarmed.

Sig's eyes were still locked onto the ring on Norman's finger. Reactively, he reached out and grasped Norman's hand with a strong grip, pulling the ring over for closer scrutiny.

Initially, Norman resisted being manhandled until he himself remembered what was on his finger. Suddenly, sweet memories came flooding back to him. Proudly, he allowed his brother to inspect his new ring.

"What is it?" Edgar probed, getting up from the end of the bed and drawing nearer to his brothers at the head of the bed. While kneeling on the floor, he could see Sig studying something on Norman's hand.

"You got it?" Sig asked, pleasantly stunned as he turned Norman's hand to get a better look at the engraving.

Norman could sense the relief in Sig's reaction. _So you were more worried about this issue than me? Somehow, that makes me love you all the more_. Silently, a little overcome with emotion, Norman just nodded.

"Got what?" Edgar persistently asked, crawling over next to Sig.

Sig looked up into the green eyes of his littlest brother. "See for yourself," he commanded, holding out Norman's hand so the sun could beam off the bright, silver-colored metal.

The blue stone glistened around the room, sending prisms of light shooting in all directions.

"Ohhhhh…." Edgar exclaimed in a hushed voice. Almost reverently, he reached out with a single finger to touch the treasured ring. "Sig…it's just like yours…almost…" the young teen stated.

"Very similar," Norman took back his hand, "Right down to the engraving on the inside." Easily, he slid the ring off his finger and handed it over to Edgar. "Only difference is the type of gold."

"It's gold?" Edgar looked doubtfully at the new ring in his hand.

"White gold," Sig explained, a little surprised he just figured that out himself. Silently, he slipped off his own ring and handed it over to Edgar. "Mine is yellow gold."

Edgar held both rings in the open palm of his hand like Baoding balls.

"See the difference?" Sig asked, "I mean, other than the different years engraved on the outside?"

"Yeah," Edgar whispered, entranced by the two rings side by side. Now, both his brothers had their special rings and, although he was happy for them, he had to wonder if he'd ever achieve such a studious goal. "Why is one white and the other one yellow?"

"Dad thought…" Norman suppressed an intake of air as he shifted and, in the process, irritated the already inflamed flesh on his bum, "…he thought I'd like something a little different than Sig's."

Distracted, Edgar was easily satisfied with the answer.

Sig, meanwhile, glanced secretively back at Norman. "Dad?" he mouthed silently. "Dad got you the ring?" When he thought about it, Sig had always given more credence to his mother ordering the ring before her death than his father remembering to take care of the task himself.

"Yes," Norman mouthed back, his eyes wide with over-exaggerated shock to communicate with Sig that he was just as surprised as Sig was their father remembered such a thoughtful token.

Then, both brothers stared hard at each other, reading each other's thoughts.

"You were right…" _You were right about giving Dad another chance_. Norman bobbed his head slightly in Sig's direction. "Dad DOES love me," he mouthed perfectly without making a single sound.

Sig almost gave a smug smile but found he didn't have the heart to tease at such a raw, unabashed moment. _What was I so worried about?_

"Right about what?" Edgar asked, realizing his brothers were having a clandestine conversation while his attention was placed elsewhere.

"Oh," Sig gave Norman one long, lasting look before turning his focus back to Edgar, "Norman's just stating the obvious…again." For that, Sig earned a moderately painful slap to the back of the head.

Before long, all three brothers were curled up in Norman's bed, eating pizza and talking about their plans for the rest of the summer.

THE END

**A/N 2 - If there is enough interest in this idea….Next edition ~ an extension of Sig and Norman's 'talk' the morning after the party at the lake.**


	2. The Other Consequence

The two older Hansen brothers stood on the porch steps of their cabin, Sig hugging Norman front to back in an awkward but endearing way for a few seconds longer. In that quiet moment, they both could hear the echoing sound of Edgar and Daisy happily splashing in the lake behind the house.

Edgar's laughter brought a simultaneous smile to both of their faces, though neither one could see the other's identical expression.

After a time, Norman was the first to break their awkward embrace, taking a small step forward and turning around. With Sig standing on the top porch step, he had to crane his neck even more than normal to catch his brother's eyes. "So…you said last night we had some things to hash out this morning," he offered as a reminder, "Well…morning's come." _And I'd like to know what that means for me. Nothing is worse than the waiting and not knowing…well, ALMOST nothing_.

Sig inhaled a long breath, glancing up at the puffy clouds overhead and exhaling slowly like he would a cigarette. _Man, I wish I had one now. Damn wisdom teeth…who knew you couldn't smoke after getting the little bastards removed._ "So it has," he muttered, glancing back down and staring into the apprehensive face of his younger brother.

Perhaps it was the nervous apprehension that he saw there that spurred Sig forward. An unpleasant task was only made more unpleasant by putting it off. "Let's sit down for a minute," Sig sighed, taking a seat again on the top step and spreading out his long legs to where they almost reached the ground.

"Alright," Norman hastily agreed, "Sitting sounds good…" The burly teen took a seat next to his brother on what was left available on the top step. Once settled, he continued fatalistically, "…especially considering I don't know how much longer the option will be a comfortable one for me."

Sig cocked his head away from Norman and gave him a speculative glance with one eye. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? We haven't even talked about what happened, let alone gotten to the consequence phase of your actions."

Norman simply shrugged. "What is there to talk about?" He hunched his shoulders together, bowed his head and toed at the granules of sand embedded on the wooden step. "I fucked up. I fucked up big time."

"How?" Sig questioned, knowing the answer but seeking clarification all the same, "Enlighten me on this 'big fuck up' as you like to call it."

Looking up, Norman stared out into the open space before them. The dirt road that ran along the front of the cabin seemed as dry as a desert compared to the lush green grass and towering trees that bordered it. If it wasn't for that road, the place would seem utterly untouched by human hands.

Yet, Norman wasn't pondering the beauty in front of him. He was seeing past it, reliving the day before and all the transgressions he committed. Finally, he spoke, "I did a lot of shit yesterday that I'm not proud of. Least of which, I acted like a complete ass in front of all your friends."

Sig interrupted Norman's words by offering a glimmer of hope regarding this particular issue. "Buddy, those guys can't remember where they park their cars half the time. You really think they are going to remember one little physical altercation during a baseball game?"

The kind words didn't have the effect Sig was hoping for. "Maybe they will and maybe they won't but…I can guarantee you they now see me as some hot-head little brother of their good friend who can't keep his emotions in line."

Twisting his lips, Sig asked sincerely, "And you care what THEY think?"

"I…" Norman sighed, thinking over the question.

"…Because we just had this discussion yesterday about caring too much what other people think," Sig reflected, "And, if I remember correctly, you were the one accusing me of worrying too much about how others are going to judge me. Mr. Winchester? Dad? Remember THAT conversation. You know, the part where you told me you didn't give a damn what others thought about you and I shouldn't either."

Norman turned his expression from the road and fixed it straight into Sig's blue eyes. "Wow, way to make me eat my words, big brother."

"See," Sig seemed satisfied with this explanation, "What other people think…how they judge us…as much as we like to convince ourselves it doesn't matter…it ALWAYS does."

"Some people more than others," Norman countered, although respectfully, "I may not take into account how Mr. Winchester sees me…because, frankly, I could be the grandson of General Douglas MacArthur and he'd still hate me…but, YOU and EDGAR…" the middle Hansen brother looked back at his feet, "…that's a very different story."

"That's an interesting point, Norm," Sig tried not to sound like he was grandstanding, "Because both Edgar and I know you are certainly NOT the grandson of the great general and we STILL love you…so what does it matter what we think? Nothing's gonna change how we feel."

"I know," Norman whispered shyly, "I know you guys love me but…it's still important to me that you both see me as a reliable member of this family. I want to be seen as the guy everyone can count on to hold it together no matter what emotional shitstorm gets stirred up.

Yesterday," Norman continued, "I was pretty lousy to Edgar because I was in a bad mood. First, I was harsh with him about playing baseball and I said some unkind things about you."

"Nothing he hasn't heard before, I'm sure," Sig dismissed the unkind words as one brother complaining about the other to a trust confidant.

"Then, I tried to make him pick sides between the two of us," Norman bemoaned, "And, finally, I was really short with Edgar about the whole psychiatrist thing."

"Edgar has a forgiving heart, Norman," Sig consoled his brother, "I won't worry too much about what happened between you and him yesterday."

"But I DO worry…AND I am worried. I don't want to hurt the people I love because I'm in a crappy mood. I want to be more consistent…more in control…I don't know…" he blushed a bit, "…I guess I want to be seen how Edgar and all them guys see YOU…them guys including Dad and Mr. Winchester, too."

"Ahh, that's sweet," Sig crooned, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the praise being heaped on his shoulders.

"I mean it," Norman said firmly, "Suddenly, this summer, you seem to be able to control your temper no matter what the circumstances…"

"…Ummm, not entirely…" Sig interjected quickly, recalling his violent outburst when confronted by Edgar about missing his ring. _The ring that I'm still not wearing because I'm still not OK with how it came back into my possession_.

"FOR THE MOST PART, then" Norman empathetically corrected his early statement, "if that's what makes you happy. My point is that you seem to have things under control and I can't seem to keep my temper in check AT ALL lately even though I really, really want to."

Sig folded his hands onto his lap. "We just talked about maybe WHY that is…"

"Sig," Norman grew serious, "There isn't any MAYBE about it. I…AM…PISSED…" he swallowed, struggling to get the words passed his lips, "…I am completely pissed off that Mom isn't here anymore…especially when…" he stopped short of finishing the thought.

When nothing more came out of Norman's mouth, Sig gently probed. "Especially when….what?"

"When I…" Norman closed his eyes, seeing his mother as the young, beautiful lady who brushed off his scraped knees after falling from the treehouse. "When I need her the most." _I miss her love…her affection…the way she'd worry about me…_

"Oh, Norm," Sig said so sadly the words hurt his throat. He reached out, placing his hand on Norman's shoulder and squeezing hard.

"So," Norman shifted, breaking away from Sig's comforting grip. Equally, he shifted the course of their conversation. "I don't know what consequences you have in store for me but I know one thing - I'm going with Edgar to see that psychiatrist."

Sig was stunned into silence. It was such an unexpected, yet mature, decision, particularly from someone who didn't like to talk about his private feelings. Yet, knowing that Norman had come to this conclusion on his own brought a deep sense of peace to Sig. It was the first step in the right direction.

Feeling overwhelmingly proud of the hard decision his brother just made, Sig was careful NOT to show any type of enthusiasm that could be mistaken for priggishness. Now was not the time to overplay his hand. "I'm sure Edgar will feel a lot better going if he has someone with him," was the wise and carefully calculated response.

Norman nodded vigorously in agreement, as if he had come up with that angle all on his own. "Sets a good example for the kid…me going and all."

"You're absolutely right."

"And I can talk about my anger."

"Yup."

"And find better ways of handling it."

"That would be the point."

"Good use of our money, huh?" Norman shrugged, "You get to sell the Mustang to keep me from going to jail for hauling off and punching the next guy that looks at me the wrong way."

"Sounds like a fair deal," Sig smiled brightly, "More than a fair deal."

"Considering I would have loved to punch the original owner of that damn car," Norman summarized, "It seems only fitting that the guy's death should end up helping the people whose lives he messed up."

"Our lives were already messed up long before Elliot came along," Sig contemplated, "Him entering our lives was just the collateral damage from Mom's death months before."

"Hmmm…" Norman went back to toeing at the ground, unsure of where the conversation was going.

Sig was quiet for a time, waiting to see if Norman had anything else to add on the subject of the Mustang, psychological treatment or his fiery temper. When nothing came, the oldest Hansen guided the next part of their talk with a learned fluidity. "So…we talked about the least parts of your stellar behavior yesterday…let's get to the parts that matter the most. What's really bothering you, because you're acting as guilty as if you committed a murder."

"I did, didn't I?" Norman looked up and over in Sig's direction, "I murdered the trust between us. Took a knife and drove it right in between that trust when I slept with Amanda after promising you I wouldn't." The tough guy made an overdramatic stabbing motion with his hand into the air as if he held a dagger. "Just like that. Right in the jugular…blood all over my hands and all physical evidence pointing to me as the only suspect."

"Whoa, boy," Sig leaned back, resting his elbows on the step, "That is quite the theatrical analogy."

"Well, that's how it feels," Norman withdrew his hand from the air and grabbed his bare knee, running his palm over the downy fur on his calf. "That's the part that is bothering me the most…well…" he amended his statement, "…that and attacking you, especially in front of Edgar."

"Jesus, Norman, we've fought before," Sig dismissed Norman's concerns, "Plenty of times, a lot of which were in front of Edgar."

"No," Norman wasn't about to be dismissed so quickly, "This time was different. You said so yourself this morning when you were talking to Edgar about it."

Sig huffed, a tad embarrassed, "Did you sleep through ANY of that conversation or are you just that good at faking snoring?"

"How can anybody sleep with Edgar tossing and turning all night long?" was Norman's cryptic response. "Anyhow, you told Edgar yesterday's fight was different this time because you are the 'guy in charge' now. You know, captain of the ship and all that shit. That's why you didn't hit me back. You said…"

"I know what I said, little brother," Sig groused, "No need to remind me."

"So," Norman flourished a hand in Sig's direction, "Then you know what I mean."

"Not exactly," Sig confessed, "But I'm sure you're about to clue me in."

"I shouldn't have come after you like I did because, well…" Norman explained, "…it was incredibly disrespectful. It'd be like going after Dad…" the teen's face soured like he just sucked down lemon juice, "…which is like…incomprehensible."

Effortlessly, Sig followed Norman's logic. Although there may have been many times over the years that the boys were angry or annoyed with their father, never once did any of them even consider physically striking out at Sverre. "Because we respect him too much…" Sig added to his internal thoughts with the verbal statement.

Norman tipped his chin downward. "Which is the same level of respect I SHOULD have given you yesterday…but didn't."

Chewing on the notion, Sig mulled over what Norman was saying. He still didn't think he could hold a candle to his father's authority, for that had been formed and cultivated over many years, but he understood that any captain, relief or the real deal, had to be shown a certain level of respect. The difference now was that the oldest Hansen was starting to believe that he had earned some of that respect from his younger brothers.

And this younger brother had disobeyed a direct order, broke his promise and shown him nothing but disrespect and insolence afterwards.

"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden," Norman asked nervously. Sig's silence was never a good sign. It usually meant that he was overthinking his plans and changing the course of his original direction.

One last glance around the sky in silence, Sig took a breath and accepted the inevitable. "You make a very valid point," he finally spoke, lowering his voice, "A point that weighs heavily with me."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Tensely, Norman smiled, trying to avert his nerves.

Sig began to wring his hands across his chest.

For Norman, this telltale habit was as equally bad as the silence.

"Sig…come on," Norman bravely went on despite the queasy feeling in his stomach, "Don't start with the guilt trip already."

Snapping back, Sig quipped, "Don't tell me how to feel. Someday, when you're in my position, you'll understand and then maybe you won't give me such a hard time about feeling like a smuck for punishing you and your brother."

Wisely, Norman kept his cool, a moment he could look back on and be proud of, even if it was partly self-preservation on his part. At times, he liked to bait his father and older brother but there was no sense now in pissing off the guy who was in the midst of deciding your punishment.

After what seemed like an agonizing wait, Sig finally spoke. Quietly, he made a confession that was completely unnecessary. "This is hard on me, you know," he let his eyes drift sideways to get a look at Norman's face.

Norman sighed slowly. _It's hard on me, too. I have to submit myself to my older brother's discipline and, although it's not the first time, I don't think it ever gets any easier. Just like I now understand that it never gets any easier for him._ "I know that, Sig. And, believe me, knowing it is making me feel even more guilt than I already do. Shit," the tough guy caught himself before he started chewing on his fingernails, "The guilt is eating me alive right now."

"I wish it wasn't," Sig said wistfully.

"But it is," Norman said firmly, "We've been through all this already. You've done a great job taking care of us this summer and I promised myself I wasn't gonna make it any harder on you than it had to be. Now, I've gone and done exactly what I said I won't.

So," Norman turned to his right and looked Sig full-on in the face, "I swear to you that as much as I want to, I will NOT complain or gainsay whatever punishment you come up with for my deceitful and disrespectful behavior yesterday."

Sig tilted his head and raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Really?"

Sincerely, Norman nodded his head. "Really. And, to start mending the trust between us, I'm going to show you I'm a man of my word. NO GRIPING!"

Sig suppressed a laugh. Norman seemed so heartfelt and genuine that it would have been rude to laugh in his face. "Alright. What are you hoping this punishment will accomplish?"

"Q&amp;A time?" Norman dodged the difficult question, "Sig, seriously, aren't we passed that?"

"Nope," Sig stated with conviction, "That part is just starting."

Frustrated, Norman leaned back against the railing in again. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath.

The second Sig heard him grumble, he held up a teasing finger. "Did I just hear a smattering of complaint?"

Norman rolled his eyes and then glanced up at his brother with a straight face. "No," he said flatly, "No complaining. No griping."

Satisfied, Sig gestured a hand that indicted his original question still stood unanswered and awaiting.

Norman closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts.

Thinking was exactly what Sig wanted Norman to do – to think about what happened and why it resulted in what was going to happen. _An action or actions always leads to a reaction. It's the way of the world and one of the most logical concepts in our human world. Norman should appreciate that, even if it is difficult for him to scrutinize his own mistakes._

"I'd like to make things better between us," Norman began softly, keeping his eyes closed, "So, I'd like the punishment to have something to do with that."

Sig couldn't resist tormenting his brother just a tiny bit. "Grounding you for a few weeks could accomplish that."

Norman's eyes flew up. He looked somehow disappointed and devastated at the same time.

"We'd get to spend a lot of time together," Sig teased on, "Hanging out together on Friday nights, watching movies, cleaning out the refrigerator…"

Biting his bottom lip, Norman looked as if he was going to cry. It wasn't that he'd dislike spending time with his brother. In fact, he wanted to make more of an effort to spend time with Sig before he headed off in the fall for King Crab season. But, the thought of being penned up in the house for most of the summer, away from his girlfriend, really pained him.

Yet, remembering his promise, Norman said nothing. Instead, he respectfully bowed his head to the possible punishment being suggested. Perhaps this punishment of grounding was easier on Sig and harder on him and, after all, wasn't that the point?

"But," Sig changed course with ease, "I know how hard it is having your mistakes hanging over you for weeks on end. And, considering you didn't get to spend this weekend with Amanda…"

Norman couldn't help but look up, seemingly unable to hide his hopefulness.

"…I do think grounding you on top of missing this fun weekend might be considered cruel…" Sig explained, "…although not unusual punishment."

"Thank you."

"Don't start thanking me yet," Sig quipped back, "You're not going to like the alternative.

"I'm not supposed to like ANY of the alternatives," Norman almost laughed, "Otherwise it's not much of a deterrent."

"Point taken," Sig admitted, "But this is MY method of alternative which is somewhat different than Dad's method and I especially don't think you're gonna like it this time around."

"A lickin's a lickin' " Norman shrugged, suddenly feeling a bolt of nervousness in his gut. _What exactly did Sig have in mind?_

"If I lay this out there and you really do have a big problem with it, you need to tell me," Sig said carefully, "Because the grounding option is still on the table. I'm not going to force you to accept my methods because, frankly, I don't want to end up in another physical altercation this week."

Norman chuckled smugly, "Afraid you're gonna lose?"

"No," Sig responded flatly and with total confidence, "Just the opposite. There's no doubt in my mind that I would win. Sure, there'd be a struggle but, eventually, I'd get the upper hand. Then, I'd have to pin you down, hold you there and spank you until I'm completely satisfied that you learned your lesson. All the while, I'd be in extreme pain from my sore ribs and you the same with your bruised hip."

Norman gulped. That did seem like an unpleasant course of action. It also smacked of complete disrespect on Norman's part.

"But it will be a lot easier on both of us if I DIDN'T have to hold you down," Sig explained, "So I guess the choice is up to you."

"It's a difficult choice to make when you're not exactly giving me all the details," Norman informed his brother, "I mean, what's so different this time around that makes you think I'd have a big problem with it? You've punished me before with the paddle and I accepted that."

Sig humphed.

"Well," Norman amended, slightly abashed, "It did hurt and I did complain some but for the most part I took it like a man."

"The different is this time, dear brother" Sig drew out a breath, "You'll have to take it like child."

Norman twisted his handsome face, utterly confused. "Huh?"

Sig ran his hands over his face, stretching the skin under his eyes. He muttered under his breath, "Why can't this get any easier to say?"

"What?" Norman asked, frustrated, "What are you mumbling? And what the hell are you talking about…taking it like a child? I'm no kid, Sig. I'm almost a full-grown man."

Quickly, Sig's hands dropped away from his face and he fixed an icy gaze into Norman's defensive blue eyes. "An almost full-grown man that acted like a little brat yesterday."

"Well," Norman tried to muster some kind of defense but nothing could come quickly enough to his logical mind. "I was upset."

"You had an epic temper tantrum because you made a critical mistake losing control with your girlfriend, got caught and didn't like the consequences," Sig fired back, "And the only way I can deal with all that is to spank you."

Norman threw his hands up, "Yes, so what?"

"OVER MY KNEE!" Sig came close to screaming if for nothing else just to let off some steam and get the words passed his lips. Remembering Edgar was just down by the lake, Sig lowered his voice and prayed the splashing water down there muffled his yell. "With my hand," he said swiftly, glad to have the explanation out in the open. "Over my knee with the flat of my hand to your boxers," the words came out in a rushed whisper.

With the cards laid out on the table, Sig then turned to study Norman's reaction to the news.

Characteristically, Norman remained stone-faced and expressionless. Yet, Sig could tell behind those taciturn eyes the wheels inside his brother's head were turning and the tough guy was absorbing exactly what the punishment would look AND feel like.

"You could opt for the grounding," Sig said in a rush, concerned he was pushing his restrained brother too far in the physical contact area.

Immediately, Norman shook his head emphatically. Although he didn't give an answer outright, he knew a grounding wasn't going to provide him with the adequate release of guilt he so desperately sought. Secretly, he'd hoped Sig would give him a licking, similar to the last, where he could expel some the guilt and general 'icky' feeling in his stomach. Norman just never imagined how that licking was going to play out.

"Talk to me," Sig pressed when all he was getting back from Norman was a blank stare.

As if startled out of a trance, Norman's eyes return to their normal, joking sparkle. "Sig, I've been getting walloped with a strap my whole life. Please, please don't take this the wrong way but…" he stumbled a bit, "…I don't know how to put this but…after getting it with the strap for the last however many years, getting spanked with your hand is gonna seem…" he bowed his head, "…like a snowball fight after a lifetime of machine gun fire."

Now it was Sig's turn to remain expressionless. "Really?" he questioned genuinely, "You think so?" _Oh, you're gonna find out just how wrong you are, little brother…sooner rather than later. But, like most things, you're going to have to find out for yourself…the hard way. No need to be smug or try and convince you otherwise. You won't believe me anyway._

"I mean," Norman shifted nervously, "It almost seems like I'm getting off easy, like I'm getting away with something."

"Well," Sig stood up, ready to move to the action phase of the process, "Why don't we just try it and then you can see how you feel afterwards. If you still feel bad about 'getting away with murder' after your sentencing, I can always add a few extra chores to your list."

"What?" Norman craned his head back, looking at the imposing 6 foot + blond hovering over him, "NOW?"

"Yes," Sig smiled confidently, "Now. Why wait."

"But Edgar…"

"He'll be at the lake for at least another hour or so," Sig waved a casual, carefree hand towards the back of the house, "And this is only going to take a few minutes."

"A few minutes…" Norman repeated the words in a hush, looking down at his clothing and, for the first time, caring about what he was wearing. Conveniently, the seventeen-year-old was wearing a pair of elastic banded jersey shorts and, thankfully, a clean pair of plaid boxers.

A few minutes sounded good to Norman. He loved the idea of everything being over in just a few minutes. That left a lot of the day free to do as he pleased.

With those thoughts and ONLY those thoughts in his mind, Norman rose and dutifully followed his older brother into the cabin.

Norman didn't ask why Sig was headed into the bedroom nor did he have to be told to join his brother there. He simply trailed behind Sig like a dog waiting for some much-needed affection and praise.

On the super short trip from the front steps to the bedroom, Norman studied Sig's back. The way his brother's t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and fell into the V of his lower back made the tall blond seem so strong and yet so fluid. Along the way, Norman found himself wondering how many kids over the years had followed their stalwart fathers or uncles or whoever out to the barn or woodshed.

Before he knew it, Norman was standing before the great, big bed in the cabin's one and only bedroom. He stared at the massive piece of furniture, trying to come up with a better use for it then having unsanctioned teenage sex in it. "You know, I could just bend over the bed…"

"NO," Sig said in a tone that broke no indifference. He allowed Norman inside and then quietly shut the door behind them.

As Sig turned the lock, he smiled at the back of the door, "See, Norman," he added with a mirth he really didn't feel, "When you don't want people to come barging in on a private moment, you LOCK the door."

Norman cocked a hip and glanced over his shoulder, "I told you, it was in the heat of the moment."

"Well, I can tell you with certainty that this moment is also going to come with its own heat," Sig stated, moving away from the door and passed his brother, "But I was still careful and considerate enough of others…much younger others…who don't need to walk in on something that's going to upset them."

"No need to rub it in," Norman grumbled.

Sig turned from the door and gave the room a quick glance. It was an awkward place to dish out the discipline but he didn't have very many options. The bay window in the front room didn't have any opaque shades and, God forbid, what if Edgar were to come up to the cabin and spy his big brother getting his backside tanned by his other big brother. The kid might just be scared for life.

Although their parent's bedroom wasn't the ideal location, the room suited the unfortunate occasion for it provided a sense of privacy, security and comfort. In addition, Sig mused, perhaps it was poetic justice that Norman should be disciplined in the same place where he created the original offense.

With reluctant acceptance on the location, Sig turned his attention to the elephant in the room, better known as his little brother with the bulging biceps and sinewy quads. Norman continued standing at the end of the bed, staring straight off at the headboard.

A complex set of emotions assaulted the middle Hansen so rapidly that he didn't have time to process any of them. Like the family's famous Storm Soup dinner where previous meals' leftovers get tossed into one big pot resulting in a conglomerate of diverse and conflicting tastes, Norman couldn't discern one emotion from the next.

The end result was a seventeen-year-old that looked terribly uncomfortable and sorely out of his element. In truth, the almost full-grown man seemed almost frightened.

Sig wasn't about to drag the punishment out with a lot of lecturing and scolding. Norman knew exactly what he did wrong yesterday and summed it up quite effectively during their discussions last night and this morning. The fact that he agreed to professional help to deal with his growing anger was more than enough proof in Sig's mind that Norman wholeheartedly wanted to change. Therefore, there wasn't a need to waste time rehashing what had already been hashed.

Plus, Sig had a feeling that no matter how expeditiously he moved the process along, the one who'd be dragging things out and wasting time would be Norman.

"Alright," Sig moved his attention away from Norman and to the head of the bed. With a few quick steps, Sig swiftly grabbed one of the pillows off the bed and returned to the foot of the oversized piece of furniture.

Norman watched Sig's movements with a kind of morose sense of curiosity.

When Sig arrived back at the end of the bed, he waited for Norman to move out of his way. Patiently, he just stood there, pillow in both hands.

Oblivious to the social cue, Norman continued standing there like a tree that had grown roots.

Sig bowed his head and shook his blond hair, feeling like laughing at it all. In place of laughter, he gently reached out a hand, placed it on Norman's left arm and easily guided the big guy out of his way.

Initially, Norman flinched at the touch but allowed himself to be manhandled to the right side of the Sig's body.

Noticing the flinch, Sig said nothing. Mentally, he groaned, reminded that his tough, younger sibling was just becoming receptive to 'brotherly' physical affection and that this brand of punishment would be pushing the limits of his fledgling acclimatization.

Instead, Sig held firm his resolve and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Efficiently, he placed the pillow on the center of his lap. Then, he looked up and waited.

Norman stood there, still as a white-tailed fawn and looking absolutely appalled.

Sig sighed. Lightly, he patted the pillow with the right hand as if he was inviting Daisy to crawl into his warm lap.

"Aaaah, what are you doing?" Norman asked when he found his voice.

"I'm waiting for you…" Sig explained, "…patiently, I might add."

"Ummm, what the hell are you doing with that pillow?"

"It's here because it makes for a cushy resting spot for your bum hip," Sig clarified, "And, it raising your…ummm…bum…which is easier on my bum ribs. Is that enough bums for an explanation?"

"Only if you're Queen of England," Norman retorted, "Come on, Sig, I don't need that." The middle brother gestured to the offending cushion with distain.

Tapping into his seemingly endless well of patience, Sig calmly explained, "Norman, I'm not trying to insult your toughness…"

Defensively crossing his arms over his chest, Norman puffed up and looked away from the offending item. Perhaps if he didn't look at it, it would magically disappear.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Sig grumbled, faced with his brother's profile, "What happened to NOT complaining?"

Pursing his lips together, Norman bit back any kind of immediate reply. He would have liked to have commented that he made the no complaining declaration long before he knew a girly pillow would somehow be involved in the process. Finally, he muttered under his breath but loud enough for his brother to hear, "Fine, but I want to go on record that I'm doing this FOR you. Otherwise, I think this is a ridiculous idea."

"Duly noted," Sig solemnly responded and was grateful to have that small debate out of the way.

"So," Norman reluctantly faced the pillow and his brother again, "Now what?" The anxious teen gave away his true feelings by shifting his bulky weight nervously from one bare foot to the other.

"Well, it's up to you if you want to take those shorts off now or if you'd like me to do that once you're…" Sig shrugged, patting the pillow again, "…settled."

One quick 'are you kidding me' look flashed in his brother's direction, Norman swiftly dispatched his shorts to the floor, kicking them away with his left foot. "Done…now what?" he asked, standing up straight and awaiting instructions.

"Well," Sig replied, feeling like he was explaining how to use an Easy Bake Oven to a twelve year old girl. Then, he reminded himself that this 'twelve year old girl' had never seen an Easy Bake Oven before. "Edgar says it's just like sliding into home plate," he chuckled softly, "Imagine you hit that fast ball off me yesterday and scored the winning run."

Norman's fine masculine features set with sudden determination. He closed his eyes and imagined that he had hit that fast ball and won the game. It was a pleasant, rewarding fantasy, one he held onto as he awkwardly lowered himself over Sig's lap.

Stretching out across the bed, Norman left his feet on the floor and found his lower half supported by a very comfy pillow.

Apparently, the appeal to Norman's athletic side worked and Sig breathed an inward sigh of relief. A slight shift along with some minor adjustments on both sides and it seemed everyone was comfortable.

At least, they should have been comfortable. Instead, Sig was left staring at his large, little brother's boxer-clad backside with the furry covered legs sticking out of the holes. Meanwhile, Norman rested his left cheek against the bed's soft duvet. With his butt raised up in a safe but somewhat awkward position, he stared at the dresser against the far wall and wondered how old the piece of furniture was.

"Whenever you're ready," Norman croaked, his voice cracking and betraying his discomfort. _You've got my ass up there, exposed and helpless. What are you waiting for?_

Sig nervously cleared his throat. "Ummm…Edgar prefers I wrap my left arm around his middle…" he took the liberty of demonstrating the small gesture of affection, "…like this."

Norman balked a little at the sudden embrace. "No need," he whispered in a rush, wiggling away from Sig and moving his whole body up further.

"Alright," Sig withdrew his arm immediately. "You've shifted too far. Slide back a little."

Norman complied with the request, lowering himself back down.

With Norman back in place, Sig tried to cross the next bridge. Considering it was one he'd crossed already, he felt more confidence with his next move. Gently, he placed his left hand on the small of Norman's back, letting it rest lightly against his brother's t-shirt. "Is this OK?"

Norman repressed the urge to move. Gritting his teeth, he came to terms quickly with the gentle touch on his back. Sig had ventured here before and, at the time, he had vulnerably admitted his secret desire for their father to do the same. It was too late to pretend he didn't crave that kind of comfort and affection. So, Norman simply nodded his head, letting his cheek rub up against the blanket.

"Good," Sig stated, satisfied and let his hand fully rest on Norman's back. Then, he started hesitating.

"Sig…come on," Norman grumbled, sensing Sig's reluctance to apply the first swat, "This isn't my first time at the rodeo, partn…"

A loud, resounding slap cut Norman off in mid-word. The first time he'd ever felt a hand doling out the discipline to his backside was quickly forgotten as it was followed by several more, all located in the same area.

A short gasp and Norman was done making any kind of noise that would signal distress. A stoic front took over and he lay there, waiting for things to go from bad to worse.

The problem was that it seemed to be taking so long and the sting that was building was agonizingly slow.

Sig wasn't about to move it along anytime soon, either. _It's time for Norman to figure out the journey is just as important as reaching the destination. Let's give him some time to think._ The modern Viking kept the swats, with the exception of the first, at a moderate level. The first swat was really just an attention getter anyway and an efficacious way of getting Norman to shut up and stop complaining. The rest were just reminders of Sig's displeasure with his disrespectful behavior.

After a while of what Norman deemed to be 'flyswatter' level spanks, he lost track of his thoughts and began letting his mind wander.

Left with only the view of the old dresser, Norman absentmindedly blurted out, "How old you think that dresser is?"

Sig paused in mid-swat, his hand raised inches above his brother's ample bottom. "What?"

Norman propped himself up on his forearms and glanced backwards at Sig. Then, his tossed his head like a horse in the direction of the dresser by the wall. "The dresser…it's been here for as long as I can remember. Where'd it come from?"

Sig seemed stunned, either by the question or the timing of it. Recovering quickly, he shrugged, "I don't know. Mom must have picked it out." Then, he resumed with the punishment, trying not to be annoyed that Norman was apparently so bored at this point that he was pondering the origin of a piece of furniture.

"Maybe it came with the house," Norman mused, wincing just slightly when Sig picked up where he left off. With the rhythm of the swats briefly broken, it was easy to feel where they had been. Now that they returned, it was suddenly a sensitive area.

"No," Sig stated firmly, continuing to apply swats to his brother's backside. "Mom bought that. You can tell. It's something she would have liked."

"How can you tell?" Norman asked sincerely, curious about Sig's certainty.

"Look at the woodwork…the rosewood inlays…the original brass knobs," Sig explained without having to glance again at the dresser. He had looked at that piece of furniture all his life. He didn't need to see it again. "Everything she loved is in that dresser. It's even similar to the furniture back home."

Norman flinched at a particularly hard swat. He looked back, wondering if Sig was getting frustrated with their conversation. Yet, Sig was set at the task in hand, looking down and concentrating on where to place the follow-up to the last.

Letting his head fall back down to the bed, Norman continued staring at the dresser. Although he'd seen the damn thing a hundred times, this time it seemed like he was looking at it a completely different light.

"Why'd Mom care so much about something we'd only use a few times a year? Nobody ever sees it anyway except us," he asked, feeling suddenly annoyed about something, "We could have just kept our clothes in the duffle bags and lived out of them while we were here."

Sig shifted his eyes over towards Norman's profile. Clearly, the teen was still fixated on the dresser. "Think about that question for a while and get back to me when you've figured it out. Can you please focus on why we're here…in this position?"

"I'm just trying NOT to think about your hand on my ass," Norman grumbled.

"Because it hurts?" Without thinking, Sig lightly stroked Norman's back with his left hand, feeling the soft t-shirt bunch up beneath his fingers.

_You're always worried about me. Just like Mom. I do like it when you show me affection like that._ "Because it's just…" Norman countered, "…weird."

"In what way?"

"I don't know," Norman said, exasperated, "I can't explain it. Too much direct contact, I guess." _Which I want and can't say._

"Hmmm…" Sig hummed, thinking it was as good as an explanation as Norman could give, "Well, at least you're giving me respect by not trying to get away. I appreciate that."

"This is what you wanted to do," Norman said softly, "and I'm trying to amend my ways from yesterday. I want very much to believe in Sig's Guide to Discipline 101."

With a warm chuckle, Sig laughed. Immediately, he regretted it. "Ouch, my ribs…" he shifted uncomfortably, instinctively putting an arm around Norman so he didn't accidentally slide off.

The moment Sig realized he 'hugged' his brother to protect him, he froze, leaving the arm where it was.

Norman froze, too, because he realized Sig did what he did to protect him from falling. The feeling of being safe and loved washed over Norman like a waterfall and he couldn't deny just how much he longed for both.

And, in that one instance, Norman fully bought into Sig's Guide to Discipline 101.

"Leave it," Norman whispered in a voice full of pent-up emotion.

Sig relaxed, leaving his arm lightly surrounding his brother's midsection.

"Why'd you do that?" Norman spoke softly.

"The same reason Mom bought that dresser for us," Sig answered without a second's hesitation. He also didn't hesitate to pick back up where he left off.

Suddenly, the swats increased in intensity, the sounds reverberating off the bedroom's faux wood paneling. Sig focused now on his brother's sit spots, letting the flat of his palm fall hard in rapid succession. Occasionally, he returned to the crest of his brother's bottom, where most of the early swats had landed, and Norman began to openly flinch.

The sting began to bring an errant tear to Norman's eyes. _That and the reminders just how much my brother loves me and, especially, how much my mother loved us all._

"I miss her so much," Norman said, burying his face in the duvet and muffling the words.

"I know," Sig held back his own emotions for later, trying to accomplish THIS task so he could comfort his brother. In fact, he wanted nothing more. "Me too." Intently, he returned to Norman's tender sit spots, swatting them forcefully and feeling the heat coming from underneath the thin material of the boxers.

Grasping the side of the blanket that hung over the bed, Norman balled the comforter up in his hand and held on for dear life. It was a might sting that Sig had slowly stewed up back there, seemingly knowing that things are more spicy the slower they are cooked.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Norman quickly rushed out between breaths, lifting his head up enough that his nose was touching the blanket. The motion caused the long suppressed tears to finally betray him, salty water running down either side of his pug nose and falling to the blanket like a silent snowflake. "I never want to hurt you."

"I know," Sig said with such understanding that he didn't need to go any further. Yet, further he went. "I don't want to hurt you right now," he said, clearing his throat and trying to push down his own tears, "But things have to change or you're gonna end up in big trouble."

Emphatically, Norman bobbed his head in agreement.

"I'm glad you decided to get help," Sig explained, returning to the punishment and fully ready to see it to the end, "But, in the event you need a little motivation to stay on the straight and narrow, you can bet you'll find yourself in this position again if you don't."

"Yes…" Norman gulped, praying to the Almighty that Sig would have mercy and decide he'd had enough, "…Sir."

"Now that's a 'Sir' I can believe," Sig said with a private smile. "Almost done. You've been very brave…throughout the entire snowball fight."

"I'm Sorry! Sorry…Sorry…Sorry…" Norman croaked, realizing his early dismissal of this process was about to cost him dearly.

Sig let his brother have the full measure of what an over-the-knee, old-fashioned spanking was all about. Turns out, it lasted less than a few minutes.

THE END?

**A/N: Thank you for all the support. I'll continue doing this 'missing chapters' series if there is enough interest. I welcome any suggestions. Otherwise, with any luck, I'll have a new chapter up for Knotted Together in the next week or two. Special thanks to a great Beta who is on one heck of an emotional rollercoaster - hold on, friend, and enjoy the ride.**


	3. The Other Warning (part 1)

Lying in sweat-soaked sheets, Sig heard the grandfather clock on the first floor chime once. _Jesus, 1:00 AM,_ the eighteen-year old outwardly groaned. _I've got to go to work in five hours and I haven't slept a wink._

It was late July during the summer of 1984. The Seattle, Washington area was experiencing the beginning of an oppressive, mid-summer heat wave when the Hansen's AC unit seized up and died a sudden death. The kids, their father still fishing in Alaska, came home late one afternoon to find the house thermostat around 78 degrees and climbing.

While they were out, Daisy had escaped to the garage, spreading her pink underbelly out the cool, concrete floor for relief.

"Smart dog," Sig had commented upon finding her.

Norman snorted as he searched the tools on the shelf, "If I don't get this damn thing fix in the next hour, I'M gonna be laying belly down on the garage floor with her."

Sig laughed, "I guess that's the better alternative to 'Belly Up.'"

"I always…" Norman scoffed as he looked intently for the 3/8 hex-head nut driver with the amber-colored handle, "…like to show off my best side under any and all circumstances."

"And your BACKSIDE is your best side?" Sig asked, theatrically, "I won't think my He-Man of a little brother would even think he had a 'bad' side."

"Well…" Norman peered over his shoulder, pretending modesty "…now that you mention it…"

"It's boiling in here," Edgar griped, interrupting and wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He was in no mood for his brothers' typical banter. If the garage was this sweltering, the house would be a roaring oven in no time. "Can't we open the garage door now?"

"Sure, buddy," Sig tried to be sympathetic, "We'll be going outside any minute…once Norman is done counting his tools or whatever he's doing."

Traditionally, Edgar never did well in the heat. Along with seasickness, the kid was prone to heat sickness in extreme temperatures. "I think it's our Norwegian blood," the older boys had overheard their father tell their mother the first time Edgar got sick from the heat. He'd been six years old and the AC in the old Monte Carlo had malfunctioned five minutes after leaving the lake house. Needless to say, it was an insufferable ride home.

"Why don't you go over to Matt's" Sig suggested, growing increasingly worried about his little brother. "Give him a call. See if he's around. You can sleep over…if you want…and if his mom is OK with it."

Without being told or asked, instead of taking his brother up on his offer, Edgar simply scanned the tool rack and found the 3/8 hex-head nut driver Norman had spent the last ten minutes climbing the shelves, trying to find.

Handing the elusive tool to his older brother, the kid flatly said, "Please go fix the AC."

Stunned, Norman paused mid-search and stared unbelievably at the amber handled tool. How the kid not only read his mind but knew exactly where to look was somewhat of a mystery. Yet, Norman wasn't about to look a gift house in the mouth.

Taking the nut driver, Norman said confidently, "My pleasure, little bror."

The trio headed outside and around the house, ready to face the beast. Daisy came to supervise.

Miserably, Norman's confidence would not be enough to save them this time.

The Hansen boys tried to fix the system themselves but even the combined talents of Edgar and Norman were no match for the complicated and ancient system.

Several hours and countless curse words later, Sig threw in the towel; a sopping-wet, sweat-stained towel. "Let's face it - this thing has been on life-support for the last five years. We're trying to revive an old, dead workhorse out here," the oldest brother admitted, watching the summer sun setting behind the horizon.

Admitting defeat was more difficult for Norman but listening to Daisy repeatedly pant, whine and look at him with confused, pleading eyes was downright heartbreaking. Begrudgingly, the middle brother went inside, picked up the phone and called a repair company.

_As soon as we can out there_.

That was the answer Norman got from every repair company in the local phone book.

Overworked and underpaid HVAC workers were swamped with similar calls from all over the neighborhood.

It seemed that everyone and their uncle had broken AC units, timed most inconveniently during the hottest days of the summer.

Sig stared up at the bedroom ceiling. _That was two days ago. As soon as we can get out there. TWO DAYS LATER = NOT HERE YET! Dammit! _

Sitting up in bed, Sig heaved a heavy sigh. The curtains on either side of his open bedroom window hung perfectly still; not even a hint of a night breeze to ease the inexhaustible heat. The only thing entering Sig's room was a feeble shaft of moonlight from a waxing half-moon.

A glance out into the upstairs hallway brought only darkness.

_Fuck this_, Sig though. Sliding his long legs out from underneath the sweaty sheets, the blond Viking put his bare feet on the floor and peeled his long body from the sticky bed.

_I'm gonna sleep on the porch if I have to!_

Taking his wrist watch off the dresser, Sig affixed it to his wrist and set the alarm for 5:30 AM.

Wearing only a pair of damp boxers, Sig swiftly removed the dirty item and changed into a dry pair of shorts and a clean, sleeveless t-shirt. Thankful that his Right Guard deodorant offered 24 hour protection, the oldest Hansen decided he didn't smell too bad and could hold off on a shower for another few hours.

The Hansen family had had central air forever, or at least as long as Sig could remember. _Probably the same unit that came with the house_, the blond thought, _which would explain why the ancient unit finally broke._ Naturally, with the convenient comfort of air conditioning, the Hansen house only had two old box fans in storage.

Those two box fans were currently in both of his younger brothers' bedroom windows.

Two days prior, after realizing that the house would be without AC for an extended period of time, Edgar had taken Sig up on his offer. With Mrs. Mavar's permission, he packed himself and Daisy up and headed over to Matt's house. Matt's mom was glad for the extra company. With Nick and Matt spending so much time together lately, she'd been feeling a bit neglected. Therefore, this arrangement worked out perfectly; Edgar got some much needed 'mothering' and Mrs. Mavar got to spoil her 'adopted' son. Even Daisy enjoyed the little vacation.

Yet, all good things had to come to an end. The Mavar family was going away for the week and Edgar and his faithful dog had to come home.

With Edgar's return, that left the threesome one fan short that night.

Norman didn't bother to go out looking for a new fan; local hardware stores, including his workplace, had sold out the first full day of the heat wave. With the meteorologists claiming that a break in the heat wave was nowhere in sight, an electric fan was currently worth more than the Florentine Diamond and just as hard to find.

Oddly insisting on sleeping in his own room, Edgar brushed off the need for a fan at all. "Seriously, I'll be fine."

"Don't you want to sleep in my room?" Norman asked hopefully, "There's lots of space on the floor." _Edgar already knows this...why am I telling him something he already knows?_

"Ummm…" Edgar hesitated, "…No…thanks, though." "I haven't slept in my own bed in two days so…" the kid added a one shoulder shrug for good measure.

"Do you want one of us to sleep with you?" Sig asked, hesitantly, "We'd love to camp out on the floor."

Edgar put up a little fuss about this, playing it up that he was slightly insulted by the idea. In reality, he didn't want either of his brothers in his room tonight and he had his reasons.

"Well, you can't NOT have a fan so…" Sig spoke firmly.

"Sig."

"No, Edgar." Sig said authoritatively, narrowing his blue eyes. With the kid's history of heat sickness, the older brother was not about to take any chances.

Sacrificing for them was what the big guy did. So, when it came time to decide who got a fan and who got left out in the cold, Sig didn't hesitate to say, "I'll be fine. I like the heat."

Now, the big blond wished he'd been left out in the cold literally, not figuratively.

_Dad's right…Norwegians weren't built for this kind of heat. _

Proceeding down the hall, Sig expected to find both his younger brothers sound asleep in their beds.

Norman's bedroom was dark, the door left open to promote free air flow throughout the house. The rickety box fan spun away in the window, making a cyclic, metallic sound. Only the soft snoring from the lump in the bed told Sig Norman was successfully avoiding the sweltering heat.

Sig continued down the hall, expecting to find a similar scene in Edgar's bedroom.

The eldest brother found himself quite mistaken. Instead of a dark room and a snoring lump in the bed, Sig found a closed door and a suspicious, flickering light coming from underneath the bedroom door.

Edgar still had their parent's TV stationed in his room, Atari system hard wired to the entertainment center.

_Did he fall asleep with the TV on? _Quietly as he could, Sig opened Edgar's bedroom door to find out.

Sig found his brother lying across his bed, feet pointed towards the headboard as he stared mindlessly at the glowing TV screen. Clad in an old t-shirt, which could have been a hand-me-down from either of his big brothers, and a pair of thin sleep pants, Edgar was a long way from sleeping.

An Atari controller firmly in his grasp and the invasion of Space Invaders transpiring on the small screen, the little brother was oblivious to anyone standing behind him. With the noisy box fan in the window, blowing a warm breeze across the room, Edgar never heard anything other than laser fire and exploding aliens.

Feeling like an intruder, Sig leaned his right shoulder against the door frame and crossed his arms. Now he understood Edgar's desire to sleep ALONE in his own room. Apparently, the all-night gaming marathon was an invitation-only affair.

In his quick assessment, Sig wrestled with how to handle the situation presented before him. _It's summer – it's not like the kid has to get up for school the next day. Plus, it's hot as hell. How anyone can sleep through this heat is beyond me? Yet, something about the nature of this doesn't sit well with me. Would I feel the same way if the kid was up all night reading?_

Sig suppressed a giggle at the thought of Edgar reading by CHOICE and not force.

_So…do I make a big deal about this or just let it go? _

Decisively, Sig settled on the latter…with some important conditions.

Walking softly across the carpet, Sig successful approached the bed unheard. Edgar was so engrossed in his game that a hydrogen bomb could have exploded next to him and Sig figured the kid would never know.

Leaning over, the oldest brother put a light hand on the small of his kid brother's back.

Startled, Edgar jumped like someone touched him with a hot poker.

Instantly sorry he snuck up on his brother, Sig removed his hand and stepped back. _Dammit, I should have known better than to startle him like that considering all he's been through this summer._ Edgar's traumatic symptoms had recently started to go dormant like grass in late autumn and Sig was hypersensitive to any signals that those nervous afflictions were making a comeback.

By that time, Edgar had dropped the controller from his hand and rolled onto his back. Spying his oldest brother hovering over him, the kid had a unique look of relief mixed with chagrin. "Shoot, you scared me," he whispered.

"Sorry 'bout that," Sig said, truly apologetic, "but it had to be done." He explained, raising an arched eyebrow, "Someone had to bring you back to Earth."

The relief Edgar initially felt deteriorated under Sig's fixed stare. If Sig was staring, it was out of concern. Yet, Edgar was unsure how to interpret those intensive blue eyes. He bit the inside of his lip and swiftly tried to determine if he was in trouble. Remember the advice Matt once gave him - _when in doubt, stay silent until you're absolutely sure you're screwed_ – Edgar said nothing.

"I don't remember this game," Sig sensed his brother's nerves and attempted to neutralize the situation.

Glancing over at the TV screen, Edgar looked back at Sig and said softly, "Matt let me borrow it while he's on vacation."

"Seems kinda mind-numbing."

"Ohhh…" Edgar picked up the controller and started manipulating his shooter, "…it's awesome. You have to shoot the aliens before they come down and crush you. The better you do, the faster the aliens come down. Sometimes, a big space ship comes along across the top of the screen and gives you bonus points."

"Sounds thrilling," Sig feigned interest. _More like monotonous_. "What's the end goal?"

"Like…how do you win?"

"Yeah." Discreetly, Sig took a step back and flipped the light-switch to the 'ON' position. Edgar's side lamp came on and competed with the warm glow from the TV screen

"I don't know," Edgar sounded fascinated and determined, "But I'm gonna beat the game to find out." _It's become my life's goal_.

"You'll have to let me know how that works out," Sig said as he reached over and switched the TV off. "But, for now, the video games are restricted between the hours of 6:00PM and 11:00PM. No more staying up all night to kill aliens…or anything else."

Edgar moaned as the screen turned to black. "But…it's summer, Sig."

The fact that Sig had the IDENTICAL mitigating thought cross his mind two minutes ago was not lost on the 'adult' in this situation. Still, he had come to a decision and he was going to be firm about it, even if he had to conceal his own doubtfulness.

"And it's hot as the Sierra," Sig rose to his full height, "But I don't think it's a good idea to be staying up all night, playing video games, whether it's summer or not."

"Why not?" Edgar protested, "What's wrong with it?"

"I…ah…" Sig struggled. He couldn't just give Edgar the old 'because I said so' routine; he hated that line and it seemed like such a cop out. Yet, he had to come up with something quick and something plausible. _What IS wrong with it_ – he asked himself?

"You can hurt your eyes," the oldest brother blurted out, "I don't think it's good for your brain, either…all that stimulation…for hours. And…I feel like this stuff can become addicting." _OMG, I wish Norman were here to help me with this shit cause I don't even knew if this crap is true or a myth. Doesn't matter now…I'm ALL IN._

"That's ridiculous!" Edgar exclaimed, standing his ground. "I've been staring at a TV since I was born and nothin' bad's ever happened to me."

Challenged to explain himself further, Sig wondered if the efficacy of his new-found parent skills were waning. "But something bad COULD happened to you," he said, finding patience on this hot night from somewhere deep within. "It's my responsibility to make sure you are OK…"

"…I AM OK," Edgar expressed, gesturing his hands wildly to his eyes and the rest of his lengthy body.

"So I guess I've done a half-way decent job so far…" Sig interrupted, raising his voice ever so slightly. "So maybe you should LISTEN to me and just accept that I have your best interests at heart." _Let's forget about all the injuries you've suffered under my care – I would have prevented them if I knew what you were up to._

"My heart tells me to keep playing until I beat the game," Edgar spoke with a bit of sarcasm, then explaining his point, "I only get to borrow for this week and then it has to go back to Matty. I've only got so much time." _My point is a very valid point here!_

"Time constraints can be frustrating," Sig muttered, attempting to sound sympathetic but instead coming off more mocking than compassionate.

"This isn't fair," Edgar fired back, feeling like his older brother wasn't listening or even trying to understand. "I don't see why I can't play whenever I want to."

Sig narrowed his eyes and thought back to his earlier statement. Honestly, he'd come up with the 'on-the-fly' concept of gaming addiction as a better sounding excuse than permanent eye damage. Now, with Edgar's overreaction, Sig was starting to believe he stumbled upon the real issue with this gaming system.

Edgar was highly susceptible to potentially addictive pursuits. Hence, the cigarette smoking, drinking, partying, gambling followed; gaming addiction, if there was such a thing, would dovetail with all of Edgar's past vices.

For the first time since the AC broke, Sig was grateful for the heat. If it had not been for the anteceding heat keeping him awake, he would have never found his brother's little secret. The older brother also suspected that this was not the first time Edgar had stayed up late playing video games.

"Because, little brother," Sig sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "It's my rule and it's not going to change, whether you agree with it or not." Yet, this time Sig laid down the rule, he actually believed in it. "Video games can be played from after dinner until bedtime…which is 11:00PM…NO LATER. AND, that's with the condition that all your chores are done first."

Quickly, Edgar turned away from his brother and stared at the dark TV before he rolled his eyes. In his opinion, Sig was suddenly sounding like every other antediluvian adult in his life.

Sig sensed it, too. He was sounding a lot more like a fuddy-duddy than the cool, eighteen-year-old brother that he wanted to be. Still, someone had to play that role (_i.e. Bad Guy_) and be the responsible one; the alternative was that Edgar would become highly addicted and find himself in a heap of trouble. Sig was NOT about to go back to THAT!

"Do you understand me?" Sig asked firmly.

"Not really," Edgar mumbled, refusing to look back at his brother.

Heavy-hearted, Sig reached out and stroked the back of Edgar's head but the kid pulled away from him the minute Sig's hand touched his shaggy hair.

"It's a bullshit rule," Edgar mumbled under his breath as he scurried over to the other side of the bed and out of his brother's grasp.

Sig bit the inside of his lip. He could come down hard on his little brother for this blatant show of disrespect. Instead, he ignored the comment. He did, however, make a mental note to return the upstairs TV to their parent's room.

Staying seated on the edge of the bed, Sig watched Edgar curl up against the wall and readying himself for sleep. The kid even tucked his hands under his chin so that he could rub the skin until he fell asleep.

Since it seemed the conversation had become truncated, Sig reached up to the headboard and grabbed one of Edgar's spare pillows.

As he tossed it on the floor, Edgar rolled over and watched his brother's movements. _He better not think he's sleeping in here tonight. Dammit! Oh, better keep my mouth shut and not complain. It's probably uncomfortably hot in his room without a fan and that's how he ended up in here in the first place. I know I'm pushing my luck about the Atari rule. Dad would have given me a couple licks with the strap just for being argumentative and disrespectful – THEN, he would have taken it away completely._

Makeshift bed ready, Sig leaned over and shut off the side table light.

The room was cast into darkness.

Edgar heard his brother getting settled on the floor.

Sig tried to relax and enjoy the breeze coming in from the window. He let the fresh air calm his nerves.

After a few moments of silence, Sig took a gamble that Edgar was not asleep and spoke quietly but firmly, "I DO have your best interests at heart."

A long, long paused followed, so long in fact that Sig gave up hope of any acknowledgement.

Finally, an answer came. "I know." _Even if I don't agree with your stupid rule._

"Please don't test me on this, Edgar. Bullshit rule or not, you WILL follow it," Sig sincerely pleaded. _We've come so far in these past few months._ "Otherwise, I can guarantee neither of us will like the outcome."

_What you don't know won't hurt you._ "Yes, sir."

The answer was too quick and dismissive and Sig knew it from the start; the kid was just priming to press his luck. "I love you, kid," he whispered, almost telling himself as much as Edgar. _This is why I make these 'bullshit' rules – because I love you._

The words touched Edgar's heart and broke down some of his teenage defiance. There was no doubt his brother meant what he said; consequences and love were never in doubt.

"Love you," Edgar echoed, refusing to withhold love even if he was mad at his brother. Mentally, he conceded - _maybe I'll TRY to follow Sig's rule._

The concession would not last.

~tbc

**A/N: These chapters are just a little distraction from real life and my current story. I promise that "Knotted Together" will be updated in a few days. **

**Just a little shout out to some fellow writers:**

**I'm really enjoying chocolatemademedoit's "Hurt Feelings". She is a terrific writer and I hope some of you will pop over and check out her story if you haven't already.**

**Also, I am honored that nsukmka's "A Chance Taken" is based off of my stories and that she was inspired to write about the three boys I love so much. Please give her a glance when you have the time.**

**And, two oldies but goodies, gaben's "Telegrams" and Jasper's Mom's "New Beginnings" series are always crowd pleasers and my all-time favorite writers. Always worth the read!**


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